running a close second for the VP slot against Brenda, but had managed to slip

past her by anonymously leaking false information about BJ thru the companies

computer system. Brenda was never sure where the rumors started but had a very

good idea.

Once Karen had taken her position still fearing Brenda’s superior talent, she

proceeded to “in effect” demote her by making her the department head over a much

smaller department. This move infuriated Brenda and revenge was all she could

think about. Months went by before her chance would come, then one day as if a

miracle she was in Karen’s office when Karen had to leave the office quickly and

failed to log off her computer it was the chance BJ had waited for. She quickly

determined Karen’s password from the careless notes left unprotected on her

messages and then she noticed the “anonymous” memos with Brenda’s name on them.

It had been Karen in fact that had stared the false rumors. Karen would live to

regret both mistakes.

The company was doing much work with the 3rd world, in a small country, Bariwa,

with much mineral potential. They were working on a financing plan to exploit

these for the good of the country. BJ finally had her chance to be rid of Karen

forever. As it turns out the project was in almost absolute control of Karen and

since BJ had access to all her files she could interfere with the project.

Brenda formulated her plan and began putting it into action.

Bariwa was depositing large sum of gold with the company in exchange for cash

which Karen was to invest on behalf of the Bariwanian government. BJ began

intercepting the transfer requests from Karen and making them herself. Using

Karen’s ID and password she opened a money market account with her firm and

stared stripping 5% of all transfers Karen requested and depositing it in

“Karens’s” account. Within a month “Karen” had embesseled 3.5 million dollars.

The trap was set….

The following Monday Karen left for Bariwa and BJ left for Western Union. She

had updated all of Karen’s real computer records with her transaction and booked

a flight from Bariwa to Rio in Karen’s name, conviently one day after Karen’s

scheduled return. The wire was to the Bariwanian finance minister and outlined

suspicious activity that the sender felt was not in the best interest of Bariwa,

with enough details to point the inquiries in the right direction, signed

“Anonymous”.

Just as planed the minister made inquiries that very day to the company

president’s office and Karen’s “plot” was uncovered. The company quickly

complied with requests for records in an effort to retain their business. And

still Karen had no idea the snare was about to be triggered as she visited with

several government officials in Bariwa. On her final official visit she was to

see the finance minister and arrived in a limo at the capital early in the

morning. She would not have a good day. She noticed on her way in that security

seemed very tight. There were four armed guards in the ministers waiting room,

all very large men with frowns on their faces but she did not worry. When she

…End of the part1. To be continued..

Archive-title: Jane

The temperature was at least 100 degrees that day and everyone was hot.

Jane was especially hot because she was dressed in a blouse, skirt, and

stockings. She carried a leather brief case and headed for work. She lived

alone and slept alone. When I say alone, I mean ALONE. No clothes! Little

did she know that wearing no bra and underwear would be so sensuous and

revealing. Sweat poured from her every gland and she was thoroughly

satisfied. When she entered her building she was hit with cold air which

shocked her. She causally entered the elevator, which was empty.

It wasn’t until now that she realized her blouse stuck to her, fully

exposing her breasts and nipples which were fully erect. This excited her

so much, she had to stick her hand down her stockings and feel her wet,

slick, pussy. The elevator stopped at the fifth floor, even though she was

going to the tenth floor. A tall, dark haired man walked in, dressed in a

business suit. He caught glimpse of her sweat-soaked shirt and smiled.

She knew he was becoming hard, and she enjoyed it totally, by licking her

teeth to make it worse. She then, as it hit the tenth floor, dropped her

briefcase in front of her. She bent over to pick it up, sticking her ass

way in the air showing it off.

She felt his hard cock, fully dressed, push against her tight, wet ass.

If the door hadn’t opened, they would have gone further. She smiled at him

and he smiled back. Then she exited the elevator.

Jane walked down the hall to a door which read: “Hosmon & Williams Law.”

She entered, and walked past the reception desk, where the secretary, who

was on the phone, nodded at her. Jane walked to the other end of the room

and walked into the door on the right.

Her office was large and beautifully decorated. She wiped her forehead

and went to the desk. She put the briefcase on the desk, opened it up and

sat, back, enjoying and air conditioning.

Then an idea came to her head and she leapt up. She undid her belt and

dropped her skirt, took off her panties, stockings and shoes, and sat down,

with only a blouse on, which was soaked to the nipple. She took out her

papers, and started to write when her phone rung.

“A Mr. T. Smith is here to see you. May he enter?”

She had to think for a second, looking at her bare pussy. Tim was a very

sexy man, who worked out and had light blond hair.

“Send him in…”

…End of the part1. To be continued..

Special thanx to: Walks-by-Night, The Unknown, Mr. Spock,
Midnight Orgy and Mad Bones

While out shopping at one of the many malls located conveniently near
me, I wandered into a water-bed store. When I entered, I saw the most beautiful
woman that I have ever seen. She was as beautiful as some of your monthly Pets.
I thought of my secret fantasy of fucking her in front of the few people in the
store.
This goddess of beauty made her way over me.
“Can I help you?” she said.
You sure can. honey, I thought to myself. “Oh, yes,” I answered. I
asked her for a certain model of sheet cover and she went in the back to check
on it. I couldn’t help but stare at her gorgeous buttocks, and thought to
myself that she had to have the nicest ass in the history of split flesh. Her
body did not stop. My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed her standing in
front of me, staring at my now-erect love tool.
“I found what you were looking for. Come back with me and I will show
you,” she said. I followed and before I could offer any resistance, she tore
off most of my clothes and threw me on the bed. We kissed passionately and then
she started to nibble on the head of my penis. She worked down my rod and
licked my balls, and she didn’t stop until I spewed my penis cream over her
face and down her throat. As I was coming, I told her my fantasy of making love
in public. It was easy to convince her to move our copulating to one of the
water beds outside in the shop. Since it was almost closing time, I gussed she
figured it would be safe.
We dressed and walked casually toward one of the sensual water beds set
up in the middle of the store. We lay down as if we were just a young couple
testing out the bed to see if it was comfortable. I unbuttoned her shirt to
reveal her large, firm breasts and rock-hard nipples. I was really turned on. I
slipped off her dress and panties as she disrobed me. Our sexual act caught the
attention of several customers. I lifted her up and placed her under the
sheets. She whispered in my ear to fuck her with all I had. I got under the
covers and slid my rod into her tight love tunnel. I was so aroused that I came
almost immediately, and her climax followed several seconds after mine.
She was moaning for more. So we turned around and got into a sixty-
nine position, this time without the concealment of the cover. She began to
suck like there was no tomorrow. I slid my tongue around the circumference of
her labia and tongued her clit until she was about to climax. I finally dove
right in and tongue-fucked her until she had four consecutive orgasms. We
fucked again while standing. Our screams almost cracked all the windows in the
store.
We finally got up and dressed. She locked up the store and told me that
she would call me again. She never did, but it didn’t matter. My fantasy had
come true.

–

“How have you been Greg?”
“Fine, and yourself?”
“Not bad, how’s study?”
“Ok, I’m dreading the exam results though…”
“Yes, me too.”
“I feel bad about one especially.”
“Oh, which one?”
“I think I’m gonna fail…” I started to cry. This was my final year
and I didn’t want to repeat any more topics.

I wasn’t crying that much, when I said: “I need some reasurance…”
and with a doubting voice added: “could you hold me for a while?”
“Sure.”
And over she came and sat down becide me. She put her arms
around me and we cuddled for a moment. It make me feel better.

Now, I am really attracted to Karen. She is really what I’m looking
for in a woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a gorgeous figure with
shapely hips. She was fit too. I bet those hips could really put
out. And she has joked about that in the past as well, though not
as crudely as I have just put it.

I was assured in less than 2 seconds of her saying “sure”. The hug
sort of turned me on. I had a hardon.

As we broke, she placed her hand on my pants to get balance and felt
something.

“Oo, what’s that?”
“Oh, sorry Karen, you gave me an erection with that hug.” I was
embarrased as hell.

“Can I see?”
“What the…” Now, I was shocked!! Karen has never mentioned this
sort of thing to me in the past. In fact, she cringes at the sight
of a males’ private parts saying that they spoil the illusion (she
attends Man Power night’s every chance she gets).

“Come on… show me.”
“Ok, ok, hang on.”

I couldn’t believe what I was doing, but I unziped my fly anyway.

Out it came. Just a little droopy, but still in good condition.
Before i could lift my head to look at her face, she dove for it!
I removed my hand from the base, and she swolled it whole.

“Jesus, what is she doing” I thought. “God, Greg, just go with the
flow, after all, it’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”

She put pressure on my penis and began to move her head up and down.
Down and up she went. Her toungue giving it a good lashing. She
removed her head and gave it a good pull with a tight grip. Oh, how
I wanted to fuck her badly. She then coated it with saliva and I was
reaching the point of no return. Faster and faser she moved her head.
I groaned and groaned. I was about to come when she lifted her head
and I came all over my stomach. Streams and streams came out, like I
have never seen before.

“Why did you do that?”
“No reason. I just did.”
“Shit, now I’ll have to wash it off. Can I use your shower please, it
went everywhere?”
“Sure, go right ahead.”

She had a smug look on her face as I took off my jumper and T-shirt.
I removed my shoes carefully not alowing any cum to get on my clean
jeans. I took off my jeans as I walked into the kitchen and on to the
bathroom. I turned on the shower and removed my undies.

“Jesus, what a mess. God, why couldn’t she have done this properly?”

The water washed the cum easily away.

“Karen, I’m just gonna take a proper shower, ok?”
“Ok” she said, her voice seamed like she was close.

I washed my hair and started on my lower body. Legs, arms, chest. There,
done. The hot water had made me horny again, but I remembered what
happened the last time, so it was fading.

“Oh, not again” I said.
“What?” cried Karen as she flung back the shower curtain fully naked.
Before I could answer, she was in the shower and had pushed me up
against the back wall. She lowered her body just a few inches and held
my dick up and pushed her stomach against it, rubbing a little. I
embraced her, knowing what would come next. She put her arms around
my neck and locked her legs around my waist still holding her stomach
tight against mine with my throbing cock between us. We kissed. I
moved the shower rose towards us, kepping the heat up and then I
turned around and pushed her up aginst the wall. I moved down and
rubbed my dick up and down her slowly. This continued for a few
minutes, then I said: “It’s time, I want to fuck you.” She nodded,
“I’m ready, fuck me now.”

I entered her. I could feel the satisfaction building. She maoned,
I groaned. We wanted more.

I decided on a better, more natural and comfortable position. After
all, the shower was a bit awkard. I thought of the bath tub. But
that was really small and I was a big boy as I thrusted once more.
“Quickly, the mat!” I exclaimed. Still inside her, we moved outside
of the shower, her legs still holding firm. I gently layed us down,
and we continued. She released her legs and arms and grabbed hold
of the corner of the bath with her right arm and the wash basin
drain pipe with her left. Her legs we flat on the floor and spread
apart. I wanted to fuck her right over to the other side of the house,
but she held firm. Thrust after thrust, I could feel the sperm bulding.
Finally, I unleashed my load into her continuing for a long as I could
afterwards. She orgasmed just after I did. Oh, that did feel good.
I’ve been wanting to do something like that to Karen for ages. Finally,
I had my reward, for it was fantastic.

We steped into the shower to wash the sweat off. Towelled off, and went
into the lounge where the gas space heater had been turned on.
We sat in the lounge facing the TV as I did before and she layed in
my arms. I was in heaven.

We fell asleep for almost 2 hours, not suprising after the sensious
exercise before hand. I awoke with a smile on my face and a hard no
on my dick. She could feel it too as she was resting her head on my
lower stomach. She must have seen it through the gap in the
shower robe I was wearing, after all, it was her’s.

She reached out for it and grabbed it. She then got up and led me to
middle of the floor about 6 feet from the heater, but still on the rug.
“Again!” she said, “I want to do it again.”
Without ANY hesitation I replied, “Yes!!”.
She let go and I undid my robe. She did the same, but erotically.
Under the robe, she moved one knee infront of the other and tilted her
hips. She put her hands on her hips and let the robe drop slowly.
“I don’t deserve this” I said to myself, by my man hood had other ideas.

She then kicked the robe back out of the way and dropped to the floor.
She got up on all fours and turned aound, exposing her arse to me.
Boy, this was a great arse, a little bigger than ususal, but I didn’t
care, more to hang onto.

I dropped to the floor onto all fours as well. I doggied on over to
her and came up slowly from behind. Her back arched with my intensions.
I stuck my toungue out and proceeded to lick her from the top of her
crack, all along her spine, to the nape of her neck. She shivered.
My cock grew harder with every lick, as when I neared her neck, it touched
her arse, but I didn’t want to go there, just a little lower was my
intension.

I moved my toungue toward her left breast. Then, back up and over to the
other. She shivered even more. So did I with anticipation.

It was time. I drew my toungue back and as I straightened up, I slid my
hands along side her body, from her breasts along her rib cage towards her
hips and finally to her arse. I then rubbed it in a clockwise direction
once, and proceeded to guide my cock into her wet pusy.

I held her hips and gently slid it in. Not all the way, we had to get
used to the new position. Out and in, in and out, slowly, until we had
the motion down pat. Then I stepped up the motion. Faster and faster I
thrusted into her cunt. Using my hands to really work her thighs up
against mine. The pounding of flesh really turned us on. We could have
done this for ages. Finally, mutual orgasm was iminient. We both
cummed like we never cummed before. Still fighting for pleasure, I,
again, continued for as long as I could, giving as much pleasure to my
partner as possible. I think I succeded. The pace eased and we broke.

But I did stop. I haven’t picked up a hitchhiker since I was in
college. I always figured that a cute girl standing by the side
of the road with her thumb in the breeze had to have a 250 pound
boyfriend in the bushes, ready to commandeer my car at
knifepoint.

I can see from a distance that you are cute, your long brown hair
whipping about your face in the wind. As I drive closer, I can
see your faded cutoffs, cut so short that the cheeks of your ass
are peeking out invitingly.

You are wearing a pale yellow t-shirt, the veteran of many
washings, faded to the color of tapioca. Your breasts,
unencumbered by a bra, poke proud erect nipples at all who pass
by. Even from a distance I can see the dark circles through the
thin shirt.

You are smiling.

I stop next to you and roll down the window.

“Where are you headed?”

“It doesn’t really matter. Can you take me?”

I swallow. “Sure. Hop in.” You slide into the passenger seat
and I am suddenly conscious of your smell; the smell of sun and
sweat on your buttery skin. I realize that you have slid closer
to me than is really necessary. I swallow again.

“What’s your name?”

“Lisa.” You don’t ask mine. Out of the corner of my eye I can
see your breasts jiggling slightly as we ride. You catch my
sidelong glance and smile slightly. I look away, embarrassed.

“You don’t usually pick people up, do you.” It is a statement,
not a question. I look back at you, more directly this time, and
see that you have turned ever so slightly towards me, and have
inched almost imperceptibly closer. I feel my mouth go slightly
dry. I cannot keep from looking at your breasts.

I begin to imagine…No! Things like this just don’t happen!
There is always a catch. I feel a light sweat on my upper lip.
I roll down the window. We ride for a moment in silence.

You cross your legs and you have moved slightly closer. Your
left hand is on the seat next to your thigh. With another
sidelong glance I can see that the top button on your cutoffs is
undone. Was it like that before? I realize that you are looking
intently at my face. Do you see what I am thinking?

If I move the slightest bit, I am sure my erection will burst
through my pants. So I sit very still and drive carefully and
slowly. Suddenly I realize I am going barely twenty miles per
hour. It seems as though we are barely moving; the fields to
each side of us creep by.

There is a wide spot ahead, next to a broad expanse of tall
grass.

“Could we stop for a bit?” you ask.

“If you like,” I reply, sure that you can hear my heart pounding.

We stop and you are out of the car, skipping through the tall
grass of the field laughing and turning around, your eyes
sparkling. Cautiously I follow you. You come back to me,
breathless, your sun-sweat smell nearly overpowering me.
Watching you in the grass I am nearly overcome with desire and I
and I can think of nothing but you.

You stand very close to me, looking up into my face. The impish
smile nearly disappears as you stand very close to me, searching
my face. I stroke your cheek with my palm and gently bend down
to kiss your soft, full lips. Suddenly your arms are around me,
your mouth wide open, tongue probing. Your body presses
insistently against me, your hands are moving up and down my
back, stroking my ass and the backs of my thighs. I am certain
my body is going to explode.

Suddenly you stop. You draw slightly away from me. Your cheeks
are slightly flushed, and you are breathing heavily through
parted lips. Your firm breasts strain against the flimsy t-
shirt, erect nipples challenging me. You cross your arms and
reach slowly for the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your
head.

Your breasts, now free in the warm sunshine, invite me. I catch
my breath, a half sob, really, as I gaze at you there. You come
to me again and take my head in both your hands, drawing my mouth
first to one breast, then the other. Greedily I run my tongue
over the nipples, feeling them harden at the touch. You pull my
head harder to you, as though you want me to devour you. I am
aware of the salty-sweet taste of your sweat. Your breast fills
…End of the part1. To be continued..

your skin is so beautiful
soft like a cloud
silky smooth
oh..the anticipation…

will you let my tongue
taste you
will you let me dip my finger
to explore your soul

my travels continue
i map your body with my senses
the wetness of my tongue
circles your taught hard nipples
oh the joy of those breasts in my mouth

our breath quickens
the air is electric
you are all that i see
this moment of time
embeds itself inside of me

you open your legs to me
and grabbing my hair,
you beg for me to please you
i grin devilishly at the thought

my tongue bends to your will
the fire inside of you
explodes in my mouth
this newness i never dreamed existed
is so real and so potent

i flicker your lips with my tongue
i nibble your folds
and watch you squirm
my tongue reaches inside
and heaven awaits me

you thrust yourself against me
urging me, wanting me
challenging me
i accept with a low moan
as my tongue explores ever deeper

you make me so wet
you make me want to eat you up
to make you scream with pleasure
and purr like a pussy cat

my tongue ignites your senses
and together we edge closer to the brink
let me touch those lovely breasts again
let me fuck you and fuck you and fuck you
torture you with this intense joy

i slip my finger into your pussy
feel the honey all around me
slip another inside the door
and begin to strike the rhythm

the primal beat goes on forever
the drums crash into the air
i watch you thrash your head from side to side
your own hands rubbing your body
and your mouth open, inviting

i plunge deeper and faster
harder and quicker
matching your moans
my mouth covers your nipples
sucking and licking

the final thrust hears you yell
OH GOD OH GOD
intense rippling heat
cascading through your body
your back arching to the ceiling

and then
the quiet
yes the quiet
savour the moment
revel in the warmth
but please lean over my way
and purrrrr deep in my ear
OH YES, purrr purrrr my pussy cat
for soon we will be hungry once again….
—
*********************************************************************
“Excuse me if I have some place in my mind I go time to time”
– Tom Petty
*********************************************************************

She was standing in the bathroom powdering and rubbing lotion
onto her legs. She had a dark towel wrapped around her body and
another around her head. The bathroom was warm and steamy from
the shower as she wiped the mirror to look at herself. Thoughts
about today’s presentation were running through her head. She
was excited about the topic, and felt good about the work it
represented. Lipstick, she thought, a little lipstick. The
shower door opened, and she turned to kiss her lover. “Open your
towel” he said, in a low voice. Her mind, somewhere else, came
skidding back to his words, “Huh?” She was a little confused.
“Open your towel” he said again, pantomiming what he wanted her
to do, holding his hands wide. She blushed and shook her head
no. “Yes” he said, simply, a command. She undid the towel,
embarrassed, her mind filled with thoughts of being too heavy and
being unattractive. “Wider” he said. And she complied, not
raising her eyes. He murmured something appreciative, but she
barely heard. One warm finger traced a line from nipple to just
below her navel. “Beautiful” was his last word as he walked past
her, out into the bedroom. She stood there, nude and shaking for
a moment as he shut the door. Only after he had gone, did she
realize he was naked, too, but she hadn’t even noticed.

–

My depression prevented me from having a social life for a long time;
I didn’t feel at all like being with other people, rather be a hermit
isolated in the ivory tower of my dorm room, working my butt off.

I was wise enough not to try to suffocate my depression with a load of
alcohol or other drugs, I was too clever to cheat myself like that. I
used marijuana every now and then to enhance positive vibes, but from
experience I knew it wouldn’t cover up depression.

Finally I got fed up with suppressing my sexuality for so long. I’ve
always been a very sexual being, but before I reformed my character to
get rid of shyness and meekness I didn’t have much action. The
relationship with the career woman was tailor-made for me; she didn’t
want to bother with formalities such as marriage, but she was damn
good company both in bed and outside bedroom, as well physically as
intellectually. So you can imagine how hard it was to return to
masturbation!

So, on Saturday night I started getting myself in gear. I’ve received
some compliments for my appearance, although it is fairly moderate in
my opinion. Having a longish, dark hair makes me shine through the
masses of conservative-looking students that populate the computer
science department. That draws some fascinated looks from the few
technically inclined ladies, but I don’t care about them – mostly they
are just as much nerds as the guys.

Since I’ve been fascinated by the sixties’ – early seventies’ music,
I’ve guided my wardrobe accordingly. For the evening I wore a
turquoise silk shirt with ornamental patterns and the bellbottom jeans
I finally had managed to find in a second-hand store. As I put a
necklace with a largish copper ankh, ornamented with runes, around my
neck I was feeling HOT!

In the city I was delightfully aware of the wondering, admiring and
violently disapproving looks I received. Every face that looked at me
gave me little electric vibes. One of the little hobbies I have liked
the most is to look intensely back if someone glances at you and then
observe the reaction, especially when girls are concerned!

At the entrance of my regular club I saw her, just going in. She was a
strange mixture; she looked innocent, yet very sensual; immaculate,
yet eager to learn new ways of sinning; the good girl, yet willing to
be a desirous beast!

I decided to take it slowly and observe her from a distance; the
evening was young and there was no need to rush, unless someone else
decided to have a go at her, but I would break that up with
ruthlessness I have discovered myself to be capable of when I want it.

The club was good: they played music loud and fast. Speedmetal
followed by techno followed by classics from Hendrix was a perfect
audio cocktail for me. I like to dance – although I lack some at the
skill department I make it up with aggresiveness and force that was in
harmony with the music. If there’s enough force no one cares if you
miss a beat sometimes. When they finally played the Doors I had the
scene almost all to myself; I accelerated myself into a shamanistic
performance in the middle of the dance floor. When the music stopped I
was exhausted for a while but felt great pleasure from my dance and
the fact that I had certainly been the focus of attention.

As I moved to the bar to have a nice, cool beer I noticed that the
girl I saw before actually followed me! I turned around. – Hi, having
any fun? I asked. – Sure! You certainly pulled an act over there,
shit, for a while I thought I saw a reincarnation of Jim Morrison in
the nineties!

I was surprised. I knew that especially if I dressed right I looked a
bit Morrisonesque, but that a girl who had barely crossed the 18 year
limit knew something about him, that was a surprise. – Thanks! Let me
buy you a beer for that, ok? Then you can tell me what you know about
that particular demigod while I can stare at your beautiful eyes. She
blushed a bit but recovered with a tiny laughter. – Hey, why not…

So, we started talking. I was being a bit too straightforward to be
polite, but she enjoyed it and adapted her style to match mine, and I
loved every second of it.

She was interesting. I’ve never liked dumb chicks, and she was
definedly intellectual. I found out that she was a freshman at the
university, came from a small country town and was a bit puzzled over
the new things around her. So that’s why she looked so innocent, a
country girl… but she seemed very eager and ready to see how she can
deal with anything that comes her way.

When we came to talk about art, I revealed that some months ago I had
been so fascinated with the Giger’s demonic and erotic art that I did
some sketches of my own. – I want to see them – right now! That was a
surprise. – Huh? – C’mon, you don’t resist a crazy idea every now and
then, do you? – No! Ok, let’s go…

We walked to the bus station. I put my arm on her shoulders and
squeezed her a bit teasingly. She responed by pressing her lips
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Except in your dreams, fantasies, and fevered imaginings said my traitorous mind. Even now I got wet just thinking of her, and I felt a wild stab of jealousy at the momentary vision that confronted me: Tennisball Turner kneels naked at the left of a chair. Her distinctive blonde bob has been shaved, as has every inch of the rest of her, although her head has still a single long braid, almost a pigtail, rising from the top. Leather in blue and orange decorates each wrist, each ankle, and her throat. Her hands are locked together behind her in a single sleeve, almost elbow-to-elbow. She’s bound by several short chains into a painful backward arc in a framework upon which two candles are mounted. The candles are positioned so that every few seconds a big drop of hot wax drips onto each of her breasts. When this happens, sharp moans escape her stretched lips and the reading light suspended on a pole, which is shoved into her mouth, jiggles. A hand slaps her wax-splattered right tit, cracking off a large chunk of cooled red wax. “Be quite still, darling,” says the raven-haired Asian in the chair “Mummy’s going to beat you in a minute or so, and if the light keeps moving about it’ll take me longer to read this chapter,” her face hardens and her nostrils flare as she looks down at the helpless slave girl over her glasses “and you wouldn’t like that at all.”

In the tobacco-smelling little office, I checked my watch-fifteen minutes. I closed the door silently. My nipples were hard. I lifted my skirt and rubbed two fingers across my pussy, then touched them to my lips. It reminded me of being kissed by my slave just after she’d eaten me out satisfactorily; a taste like honey and jasmine, with a little hint of bitter lemon rind. I pinched one of my hard nipples through the fabric of my sweater and bra. My clit responded with a tingle. I sat back in the scuffed red leather chair and teased myself, running my finger slowly up my thigh. My mind took me back into the fantasy-only instead of the handsome Asian woman, it was me in the chair.

“I don’t have long, piggy, so get that tongue of yours to work.” In this fantasy her blonde hair is all there, although her pussy has been trimmed to a tiny ‘landing strip’ of fur. She’s wearing nipple clamps hung with two ounces of weight on each side. Her flesh is cruelly marked with red stripes. She displeased me yesterday, although I forget quite what it was. . . Oh but that slutty little tongue of hers! She’s really getting into her work. It makes her happy and wet to please me. Not that wetness does her any good. Her cunt is freshly sealed shut, pierced and padlocked only a few weeks ago, and as for her ass-well that’s currently occupied by a “triple ripple” butt plug which I’ve been training her to enjoy. I ease my haunches forward on the chair, presenting myself to her mouth. If her hands weren’t locked tightly to her collar she’d be fingering me and I’d have cum already. As it is, her tongue flicks my ass and pussy in that rhythm that pushes me over the edge. . . Voices; Outside; Shit! I stopped flicking my clit as the fire inside me banked, then died down. The window in the office door lit up as someone flicked the switch outside. Composing myself I quickly stood up, tucking my blouse back in, smoothing my rumpled skirt, and pulling up my damp panties. Taking a deep breath I glanced in the mirror on the end of the wall shelves. Slightly flushed, but nothing out of the ordinary for a first-day teacher. I sniffed surreptitiously-I always think that my smell gives me away when I’m horny. Not having deodorant with me, I anxiously sprayed a good bit of a can of “Air-Way Smoke-Out”, thoughtfully left by the previous occupant of the room for such emergencies-or maybe not, into the air and walked up and down beneath the hazy cloud.

I opened the door and stepped out into room 108 to find a small group of kids slowly getting bigger as students trickled in. These were grade 10’s-a particularly tough group for a new teacher. They’d seen it all, and were planning to do most of it; or egg someone else into doing it, possibly on video. Grade 10’s are testing adult wings that don’t quite fit yet. They’re ready to fly on their own, mostly, and resent interference, but you can’t quite leave them alone to figure it all out. So you have to be totally available and totally disinterested at the same time.

They stared when I came into the room, and I was conscious of the sudden silence. They could tell from my clothes that I wasn’t a student, but surely this chick was too. . .what? Too young, too . . . put together, for a teacher. I could almost feel the girls narrowing their eyes as I walked to the big desk up front.

I was a bit nonplussed at the attention, especially from male members of the class. After all, I’d spent several hours taking care that my clothes were appropriate for a teacher. They were supposed to be stylish but plain. My heels (a personal conceit-teachers were supposed to wear flats for insurance reasons) were only two inches high. My stockings were plain and dark with a seam up the back; being old-fashioned about underwear I held them up with a garter belt. My skirt was grey and pleated, but respectably knee-length, although it had a disturbing tendency to flare outward a bit. I wore a high-necked blouse with pearl buttons, trimmed with lace at the throat and wrists, with a simple short jacket over all, and my long dark brown hair had been pinned within an inch of its life into a bun. I didn’t realise until I was told, much later, how plain dressing can make a woman sexier than sheer stark nakedness.

The boys in the class shifted uncomfortably in their seats as I turned around and wrote my name on the board: Miss Flock. I’d expected some whispered comments about my last name, but a girl named Althea Flock either gets used to it or changes her name to Karen Smith. But the question I got asked wasn’t quite what I was expecting:

“Hey,” said a boy in the second row “what do we call you?” “I’m Miss Flock” I told him. He had on jeans that puddled around his ankles, a t-shirt with a big green marijuana leaf on it, and a red ball cap turned sideways. “Nah,” he said “what’s your first name?” I was a bit stunned, and reacted from pure instinct. “I don’t have one as far as you’re concerned Mister . .?” “Fisher,” he said “Jerry Fisher-but everybody calls me Fish.” His mouth was open, and his hair hung over his eyes beneath the brim of his cap. “I’m not everybody, so I’ll call you Mister Fisher,” I answered “and take off that hat, please.” I think it was only surprise that made him do it.

People think teachers haven’t got ears. Students will talk, even while other teachers are present, and they don’t seem to understand how much of what they talk about makes it back to the staff room. During my first year I gained a reputation as a fierce disciplinarian, but a parallel reputation for being fair and for working things through. I didn’t hesitate to give detentions, which surprised and appalled a lot of parents and brought me into a lot of conflict both with them and with the school administration. But I stood my ground, sacrificed my time, and gradually the parents came to know me as the teacher who could get the best work out of their kids. Almost all their kids.

For my part, I settled into school life like I’d been born to it, and for five years I taught high school English and History. I was satisfied and doing useful work. Eventually I got used to the loneliness too.

It wasn’t that I didn’t get offers. In the first couple of years every straight male teacher (and one I wasn’t certain about) and a couple of the gay female ones made me offers. I always felt awkward turning them down. My fling with Tennisball and the discomfort of sharing classes with her after it all came apart (after I broke it apart), or of seeing her around and the misery it brought on, were still pretty fresh to me. I cautiously accepted a few invitations, had second dates with a few men; turned down all the women.

It wasn’t that I was “denying my gay self” or something. I just didn’t feel anything for them. It was that “plain toast, no jam” feeling. Not that I got anything much from dating the few men I spent time with. I took a couple of them home; actually saw one man for several months. We had sex, and it was terrific overall, but eventually the whole relationship came down to sex. There wasn’t anything else. So I thanked him and said goodbye. It wasn’t quite that simple-I wound up sleeping with him occasionally for nearly a year before I decided it was doing me more harm than good.

Once again I said goodbye, and once again he was nice about it. We talked by phone occasionally, but I wasn’t very encouraging, and eventually the phone went silent too. I spent a lot of time working out or reading, and slowly got used to being alone. Then something happened that made my tiny flickering flame roar up and consume me.

At the beginning of the fifth year I worked at the school, I arrived early, masturbated quickly (it had become something of a habit), and walked into the classroom from my little office, which smelt less like smoke and more like sandalwood nowadays.

The new students, a grade 12 History class, were grouped around the room in the usual dribs and drabs. I’d had some of them in prior years. Clearly they’d told their friends about me, because as soon as I arrived there was a bit of a scramble to take seats. I felt the eyes crawling up my legs to my ass, then to my back as I strolled up the row, heels clicking. I deliberately put a slow wiggle in my walk-it would be useless for me to pretend any longer that I didn’t enjoy the looks I always got on the first day. At the front of the room, I wrote my name on the board and turned to face them.

“Good morning,” I began “I’m Miss Flock. It seems like you already know my general rules. I expect you to behave professionally towards me, just as I will towards you. I’m going to get your names from you now.”

The front row consisted of Jeff McWhirter, a skinny boy in a ratty t-shirt and glasses. I noted the shirt and made a mental check to remind him of the both the school’s dress code and my class dress code, which was somewhat stricter. Next to Jeff was Linda Long, who vaguely reminded me of a spaniel puppy. Beside her was Calvin Chung, a thin Chinese boy I guessed was both bright and gay, as was the long scarf he wore. The fourth seat was vacant.

Like most teachers and preachers, I hate vacant seats at the front. I looked over the room of blonde and brunette heads to the very back. I caught a glimpse of swirling black hair with a single blue streak, pale bare shoulders, and the distinctive “T” of a g-string visible above the waistband of a pair of “Sho-T” brand jeans (the hot brand for teen no-longer-wannabe-virgins that year). The owner was seated, leaning into the aisle as she rummaged in an oversized canvas book bag.

“Excuse me,” I said, pointing “Yes, you. What’s your name please?” There was a mumble. “I beg your pardon?” I said. “Sue.” “Sue who?” I heard a solitary giggle from somewhere.

The girl I’d addressed stood up, hips cocked and head tilted in that gesture that makes teenage girls look like 40-year-old hookers. Her g-string arced over her pretty hips under a half-shirt with no bra that I could see. And I was looking. God was I looking!

Have you ever heard the expression “wide-on”? It’s the female equivalent of a rampaging hard-on. But that was what I was experiencing. Deep in my mind something said Oh-oh. But my little lizard brain was raving Bite her! Catch her! Eat her up! FUCK her! My nipples were hard under my jacket, and I think anyone three feet away could have smelt my arousal.

“Sue” was what my mother would have called gammon: short and slim with wavy black hair that hid her face. Later on in the term, when I actually got to see her face, it was pixie-like, freckled and mischievous, and never far from a predatory grin. At the moment she stood with an old, old “fuck you” expression behind that hair. Her eyes sparkled with a happy malevolence.

“I’d like you to move up to the front desk, Miss. . .” I groped.

She didn’t rescue me. In my flustered embarrassment I glanced at the class list before me. It swam into focus, and after what seemed like an eternity but took only a few long seconds (which is plenty long enough if a class thinks you’ve lost the upper hand) I spotted the name “Castle, Susan”.

“. . . Castle.” I almost gasped. My eyes were swimming, and the blood pounded in my veins. I fought hard for control. I was a professional, damn it! In an effort to regain a measure of self-discipline I looked at her visible panties.

“Are you aware of the school dress code, Miss Castle?” Another mumble; more-or-less affirmative. “Speak up please.” Another mumble. “I still,” I said through gritted teeth “Can’t hear you. Shall we try once more for comprehensibility?” “I said yeah!” she nearly shouted “I know the stupid dress code!”

“Susan,” I said after the shocked pause which followed “I’d like you to take this seat here,” I pointed to the fourth seat in the front row “And I’ll see you this evening in detention.”

Her mouth, still largely hidden by hair, dropped open. “What’d I DO?” “You just said you knew the school dress code. Four B’s, right? No bellies, no boobs, no backs, no bums. Do I need to explain that you’ve violated at least three of those?”

There was scattered laughter. Susan stared at me with murder in her eyes. Then she flounced dramatically from the back of the room to the front. On the way she made very sure to brush past me closely, sure that I’d step away. But it wasn’t the first time a student had tried to physically intimidate me, and I stood firm.

Our hands brushed together. Just the briefest of touches; But she looked at me, into my eyes, and in that fraction of a second I felt an electricity pass through me. Oh no, Althea. I told myself sternly, this is poison-the worst and nastiest kind. As abruptly as it came on, the shock receded, and Sue Castle, whom I began to address as Ms. Castle from that day on, flopped into the vacant desk. I regained my composure, and finished calling the roll.

Over the first weeks of that year, Susan earned a number of detentions from me for violating the “4-B” dress code. Finally she settled into what became her uniform: Stirrup pants and an oversized sweater a la Marilyn Monroe-a look I thought was outdated, but which somehow made her even more of a sex-pot than her friends who were trying unsuccessfully to emulate teenage pop stars (while still covering the school minimum of flesh).

Susan had definitely begun discovering the benefits of being female in a crowd of hormone-crazed teen boys. She got respect from the jocks because she stood up to them, but hung out with the nerds, possibly making her the most popular girl in school. But her marks were atrocious, her conduct disrespectful, and she had serious discipline problems.

II wasn’t sure she was entirely unaware of the effect she had on me, either. When I told her to wait after class was dismissed she would deliberately stand too close to me, making me feel flustered and hot.

And horny. I was continually surprised and somehow angry at that. But damn it!-she was seventeen. Three years over the age of consent but nine years younger than me. And, I thought, she couldn’t possibly have any idea of the sort of things that crept into my head when she looked at me so insolently in class:

Susan Castle is standing outside my office door. She is wearing a thin, long cotton T-shirt and nothing else, as she has been instructed. Inside the office, I am waiting and wet. I slip the dildo into its harness, and then slide the free end into my pussy with a grunt. I tighten the buckles on the straps which cup my ass and hips. I always love the look of the dildo thrusting up from my crotch. Do men feel like this, I wonder? Apart from the dildo and its harness I am wearing a pair of stockings, a bustier, and opera-length gloves. The room has been prepared. Several candles flicker on the shelves, making my rubber cock cast shadows that would give old Sister Chang from high school nightmares. Hanging from assorted hooks along the wall behind my desk are some toys: A thick strap called a strapple, a piece of bamboo cane, a shiny pair of clamps (nipple or labia-oh no, the clothespins for naughty pussy lips are over there). Satisfied with the arrangements, I call out: “Enter”. I cross my arms and stand facing the door with my feet apart. The door swings open of its own accord. Susan enters with an old-fashioned candlestick. Her eyes are big, dark and a little fearful, riveted to the jutting phallus between my thighs. I melt inside, wanting to hold her to me and tell her its all going to be alright, that I’d never really hurt her. But I can’t-she needs to know that I am the one in control. Ordered to place the candlestick on the desk, Susan attempts to straighten up. But I have a gloved hand firmly in her hair. I push firmly downward. “You will enter this room only on your knees from now on, slave.” Obediently she kneels. I slap her face. “You will answer me with your little mouth,” such a tight little rosebud of a mouth-I want to kiss it. I want to pinch her lips with clothespins, I want to bite them “and what I will hear from that dirty little mouth will be ‘Yes Mistress’. Have you quite got that?” She almost nods for a minute. But eventually says: “Y-yes Mistress.” There’s no foreplay. “I’m going to fuck all your holes, right now, just to prove I can; to prove that you’re my property. Won’t that be nice?” “Yes M-Mmmmph!” as I drive the dildo between her lips. She resists for a moment, and I take a short sash cord from the desk and whip her vigorously. After about ten stripes have blossomed on her back and ass, to the accompaniment of shocked squeals, I feel the dildo fully inserted in her mouth. She’s looking up at me from my crotch, inquiringly. I fuck her mouth for a few strokes, then pull out. At my command she turns and presents her behind to me. I order her to put her head to the floor, tossing a textbook down so that she won’t risk wood burn. She almost wiggles in pleasure as I drive the first inch of the dildo into her cunt. But I stop almost as soon as I’ve begun, and she whimpers as I withdraw. “You cum without permission, slut, and I’ll whip you sixty times with the cane.” I hiss at her. An empty threat. She’s never been caned before, and her tender ass would bleed before I gave the tenth stroke. But she doesn’t know that. She also doesn’t know that I don’t know her anywhere near well enough to stop her from cumming if she started. But I rely on her honesty. I grab her ass firmly and spread her cheeks. Her puckered little asshole is porn-star clean, as I specified. Fingering a large dollop of lubricant into her hole, I begin intruding with the dildo. Her whimpering becomes moaning, then crying out. “If you want this to stop, all you need to do is use your safe word, slave.” She knows-but I have to be sure. As I seat the dildo inside her to the hilt, I feel the tension relax inside her as she opens up and admits her Mistress. I glory in the trust and triumph, and as the dildo slips in and out of both of us, I smack her ass triumphantly and start to cum. . . . See what I mean? What seventeen-year-old could possibly share that dream?
Susan settled into her seat, and for the entire term she never once raised her hand. If I called on her she’d either ignore me, looking out the window, or else she’d stare at me blankly. There wasn’t much I could do beyond give her another detention.

After her first report card, neither of her parents came to parent-teacher night. Since she was in great danger of failing, I took it upon myself to call her listed phone number. Receiving no reply, I attempted to contact her parents at work. At her father’s workplace number I was told that Mr. Castle was away at the moment and probably wouldn’t be back for several weeks. Her mother’s listed employer-the construction firm of Stonewall and Mason-told me that Mrs. Castle no longer worked for them. Intrigued, I pulled her file card at the office-technically a no-no but easily done if one knew the file clerk.

There were two listed addresses. The first was in a gated community at the top of the hill forty-five minutes from town. The security guard took my name and number, and then explained that he couldn’t let me in, as Mrs. Castle hadn’t left my name with him, but I could wait with him if I chose. Meantime, his eyes travelled hungrily up my legs to my neckline, but never got as high as my chin. I tried to give him a withering look, but I think he just thought I was squinting to read his badge number.

The second address was on what would normally be called the wrong side of town. It was a once-pretty single-storey wooden house, with a battered picket fence. Weeds and rusty swings languished in the backyard, complimented by more weeds and litter in the front. I would have thought it was an abandoned house except for the man coming out.

He wore a faded blue robe, and had a faded handsomeness himself. His feet were bare. He limped and had a thin black cigarette in his mouth and a clinking bag in his hand. He raised his head and no doubt caught me staring from my car, because he waved sardonically, then flipped me the bird. He dumped several bottles into the trash can at the side of the house, and went back in. I heard yelling.

I had put the car in gear when a dark mop of hair poked out the door, there was more yelling, and then the door of the house flew open, and Sue crossed the weedy yard at a run. I hammered the gas to the floor, and peeled out. It was guilt, of course. I had a semi-legitimate reason to be there, but at the same time, something told me that I didn’t want to be caught lurking around a student’s home.

But as I drove off, I looked in the rear view mirror. The figure standing on the sidewalk was just a silhouette in the late afternoon sun, its fists balled by its side. But that silhouette looked defeated, angry, hurt and unhappy. And I’m a teacher first. I put on the brakes and reversed toward her.

Sue slouched to the driver’s side, head down, not meeting my gaze. “He’s inside.” I was flustered for a moment. “Who’s inside, Miss Castle?” “My Dad. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Wasn’t it? I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to Mr. Castle. Moreover, I wasn’t sure he’d care, that he’d understand the importance of what I needed to tell him-that the years between his daughter’s age and mine were important ones, and that those years could make a difference between his daughter being successful and happy, or . . . or not.

But it wasn’t her father, or her mother I really needed to talk to. I’d had conversations before with other students, even with Sue-although not with any results that I could see. Perhaps it was worth one last try. Even now I wonder whether I might have already been seeing the little signs of how my life and Sue’s were to change.

“Get in.” I said, swinging open my passenger door. Susan climbed in without asking where we were going. It crossed my mind that I could have been a kidnapper; a rapist; anyone, and she’d still climbed in. Then I almost laughed-goody-two-shoes Miss Flock, with her grey woollen skirts and her plain blouse and glasses-a rapist, and a lesbian rapist at that!

But my oh my-did I ever want to be!

On top of the very nice physical package she was friendly, chatty and gave
a WONDERFUL lap dance. She touched as much as the law would allow, and maybe a
bit more. And as time had gone on (this was the sixth time I had come in
during the past 5 months) her dances for me had gotten just a little more
risque, a little hotter, a little more daring. She let me touch her back quite
a bit too, but I was always careful not to go over the line. It was still
great. She also gave lip-kisses. Most of the girls would only give you a
little nip on the cheek. Little details like that mean a lot to me.

Anyway, we were there and my buddy got up to go to the restroom. As he
walked away, I sighed, considering the fact I only had $22 bucks left of the
$130 I had started with, and observed that it was unfortunate the evening was
going to have to end fairly soon.

“How come?” Her voice wasn’t bad either, not the gravelly, husky female
voice that made me melt, but pretty nice all the same.

I explained the money thing. I usually got 4 or 5 (3 or 4 from her)
dances and 3-4 overpriced drinks when I came in. She knew my limits, but
I’d only had two of her dances tonight — she had been with other customers.

She leaned down with her lips to my right ear and pressed her warm soft
cheek to mine. I loved it when she did that. She did it quite a bit.

“Who says it has to end?” she asked softly.

That raised my eyebrows. She never pushed me to haul out my plastic for
her, never pushed period. A rarity, and yet another thing I liked about her
(you’re gonna be sick of all the little details I liked about this woman before
I’m done).

That left one possibility, one I’d never seriously considered before. It
was against club policy for dancers to go out with customers. Naturally the
owners were afraid of getting nailed for pimping or something, or even being
innocent bystanders in a prostitution scandal. But it sure sounded like she
was proposing a little after-work get-together. So the questions were 1) Is
she a cop? or 2) Is she a hooker?

I craned my neck around to look her in the eyes, and she shifted slightly
to help me out.

“Care to elaborate on that?” I asked.

She smiled impishly and leaned forward. Her hair spilled around our faces
and I could smell her breath. It was sweet from the call drinks we’d both had.
She touched her forehead to mine and whispered, “You’re always really sweet.
You’re friendly and you don’t try to pull a big come-on. I like that a lot.
I’d also like to spend the rest of the night with you. No strings, just fun.”
She leaned back to gauge my reaction.

She needn’t have bothered. My cock had gotten rock hard in seconds, and
as I stared back, trying to formulate a witty assent worthy of James Bond, she
pressed her leg into my erection, waggled her eyebrows suggestively and said “I
think I’ve got a ‘yes’ here.” I grinned at her and we made plans hurriedly
before my buddy came back from the restroom.

To shorten things a bit, let’s just say that it required a bit of timing
and my dashing about at high speed in my Grand Prix to get me separated from
my buddy (luckily he lived nearby) and back with Julie without her fellow
club workers noticing. Her apartment was much closer than mine, so we headed
there. I was as excited as all hell, but during the short trip alone back to
the club, I resolved that since she was giving me the most princely gift of her
beautiful body, I had to see to it that she enjoyed this evening as much as
possible. It would be my gift to her.

We had a difficult time getting into her apartment. We kept stopping
every few steps and kissing strongly. For a long time I had desired to *really*
kiss her, as opposed to the brief ones we were allowed at the club. She would
press her warm body up against mine and move up and down, stroking me with
her entire self, while our tongues “dueled like soft, moist sabers” (I’ve
always liked that line). It was wonderful, but I restrained myself as much as
possible. Crazy animalistic sex would be great, but it wasn’t what I wanted
to do for her right now. I wanted to add in a lot of tease, to make her beg
for release, to drive her crazy. I’m no Don Juan, but on the few occasions
I’d had opportunity to do this in the past, my partners were always VERY grate-
ful.

Finally, we staggered into the bedroom. She’d lost her top and I my
shirt. We flopped onto the bed, still kissing madly, but I’d managed to slow
the pace down to just intense instead of wild. Stroking her smooth back, I
eased her onto her stomach and moved up to whisper in her ear.

“Just relax for a while and let me do the work. Let it be my thanks for
your having me over.” Yeah, yeah, “having me over” isn’t all that romantic
sounding, but I didn’t want to get really gushy and say “make love”, and “have
sex” seemed *much* too cold.

“Mmmmmm,” she purred, and smiled sexily, settling onto the bed with a cute
wiggle. I took that as a “yes”, as I reached over and turned on a small lamp.
The light was subdued but ample. Excellent.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

But I did stop. I haven’t picked up a hitchhiker since I was in
college. I always figured that a cute girl standing by the side
of the road with her thumb in the breeze had to have a 250 pound
boyfriend in the bushes, ready to commandeer my car at
knifepoint.

I can see from a distance that you are cute, your long brown hair
whipping about your face in the wind. As I drive closer, I can
see your faded cutoffs, cut so short that the cheeks of your ass
are peeking out invitingly.

You are wearing a pale yellow t-shirt, the veteran of many
washings, faded to the color of tapioca. Your breasts,
unencumbered by a bra, poke proud erect nipples at all who pass
by. Even from a distance I can see the dark circles through the
thin shirt.

You are smiling.

I stop next to you and roll down the window.

“Where are you headed?”

“It doesn’t really matter. Can you take me?”

I swallow. “Sure. Hop in.” You slide into the passenger seat
and I am suddenly conscious of your smell; the smell of sun and
sweat on your buttery skin. I realize that you have slid closer
to me than is really necessary. I swallow again.

“What’s your name?”

“Lisa.” You don’t ask mine. Out of the corner of my eye I can
see your breasts jiggling slightly as we ride. You catch my
sidelong glance and smile slightly. I look away, embarrassed.

“You don’t usually pick people up, do you.” It is a statement,
not a question. I look back at you, more directly this time, and
see that you have turned ever so slightly towards me, and have
inched almost imperceptibly closer. I feel my mouth go slightly
dry. I cannot keep from looking at your breasts.

I begin to imagine…No! Things like this just don’t happen!
There is always a catch. I feel a light sweat on my upper lip.
I roll down the window. We ride for a moment in silence.

You cross your legs and you have moved slightly closer. Your
left hand is on the seat next to your thigh. With another
sidelong glance I can see that the top button on your cutoffs is
undone. Was it like that before? I realize that you are looking
intently at my face. Do you see what I am thinking?

If I move the slightest bit, I am sure my erection will burst
through my pants. So I sit very still and drive carefully and
slowly. Suddenly I realize I am going barely twenty miles per
hour. It seems as though we are barely moving; the fields to
each side of us creep by.

There is a wide spot ahead, next to a broad expanse of tall
grass.

“Could we stop for a bit?” you ask.

“If you like,” I reply, sure that you can hear my heart pounding.

We stop and you are out of the car, skipping through the tall
grass of the field laughing and turning around, your eyes
sparkling. Cautiously I follow you. You come back to me,
breathless, your sun-sweat smell nearly overpowering me.
Watching you in the grass I am nearly overcome with desire and I
and I can think of nothing but you.

You stand very close to me, looking up into my face. The impish
smile nearly disappears as you stand very close to me, searching
my face. I stroke your cheek with my palm and gently bend down
to kiss your soft, full lips. Suddenly your arms are around me,
your mouth wide open, tongue probing. Your body presses
insistently against me, your hands are moving up and down my
back, stroking my ass and the backs of my thighs. I am certain
my body is going to explode.

Suddenly you stop. You draw slightly away from me. Your cheeks
are slightly flushed, and you are breathing heavily through
parted lips. Your firm breasts strain against the flimsy t-
shirt, erect nipples challenging me. You cross your arms and
reach slowly for the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your
head.

Your breasts, now free in the warm sunshine, invite me. I catch
my breath, a half sob, really, as I gaze at you there. You come
to me again and take my head in both your hands, drawing my mouth
first to one breast, then the other. Greedily I run my tongue
over the nipples, feeling them harden at the touch. You pull my
head harder to you, as though you want me to devour you. I am
aware of the salty-sweet taste of your sweat. Your breast fills
…End of the part1. To be continued..